


Darkside

by sweetie_or_not



Series: Bigger Plans [2]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: #michaelisadick, Alternate Ending, F/M, Season/Series 04 Spoilers, Season/Series 05 Spoilers, The Plot Thickens, see you in hell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:33:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29722146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetie_or_not/pseuds/sweetie_or_not
Summary: “You know that thing you really didn’t want to happen…” Amenadiel trailed off, voice flat with displeasure.  Lucifer managed to keep his expression neutral as he felt the ground drop out from under him.“Michael’s in Hell, isn’t he?”Michael’s attempts to oust Lucifer on Earth may have been thwarted... but when has he ever not had a backup plan?Immediately follows the events ofUnfinished Business
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Series: Bigger Plans [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2184363
Comments: 12
Kudos: 26





	1. Problem Solved

“So, let me get this straight.” Lucifer hunched over the penthouse bar, hastily refilled glass in hand. “Despite you going after Michael to the Silver City and confronting our siblings with what he’d done, in order to ensure they delivered a fitting punishment, that was  _ not _ sending him to Hell… they  _ still _ managed to send the bastard to Hell?” Lucifer was doing an admirable job containing his rage, if the amount escaping was any indication of the full payload.

“That’s just it, Luci!” Amenadiel’s frustration was apparent, both at his brother and the situation. “Michael never went to the Silver City in the first place.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yes! I followed him up there, like Chloe asked me to. I asked where he was, told them how he needed to answer for his behavior, and… none of them had seen him. They looked at me like I was crazy!”

“And that’s it?” It was a wonder the glass hadn’t shattered in Lucifer’s grip yet.

“No, Luci, of course not.” Amenadiel paced as he recounted the story. “Like I told you, I gathered our siblings and explained to them what Michael had been up to.” He paused, shaking his head. “But they didn’t believe me.”

“Are you seriously telling me they took his side over your word?”

“It’s like I told you before, Michael has managed to make himself... untouchable, outside their scrutiny. You don’t know what it’s like up there.”

Lucifer’s voice was laced with bitterness. “No. I don’t, do I? I’ve got to send messengers to fight my battles for me, whilst I’m stuck down here.” He polished off his drink, vented some restless energy filling it again. “So, what? Michael just decided to flip Heaven the bird, after he guessed you’d be up there after him?”

“Is it really that surprising?”

“No,” Lucifer gave a mirthless laugh, “unfortunately not.” His anger was quickly burning off, leaving behind a deep exhaustion. So much for thinking this might have finally been over. “Is that it, then? That’s all we’ve got to go on?”

“You don’t think I kept trying, Luci? I stayed, I argued with them. Tried to convince them to at least  _ consider _ my claims. Like you’d warned me, if Michael wasn’t in the Silver City, it seemed likely he was in Hell, and I told them as much.”

“And did you actually manage to get through to any of them?” Stubbornness seemed to be the one shared trait between all his siblings, for better or worse.

A note of pride lightened Amenadiel’s expression. “Remiel.”

“Really? Never could resist a good chase, that one.”

They settled down in the living room, earlier nerves temporarily waylaid, as Amenadiel continued his recounting.

“Remy was still skeptical, but at least willing to investigate. She offered to go to Hell, to see if what I was saying was true.”

“And she really went?” Lucifer asked, leaning forward in his seat.

“She did. And we waited for her to return. I don’t know what I was expecting.” He looked out the expansive windows in thought.

“Yes, and?” For Dad’s sake, he could really draw a story out.

“Oh, she said she found him. In Hell, as we suspected,” now it was Amenadiel’s turn to sound bitter. “That he had, how did he put it?, realized the error of his ways, and was doing his part to make amends.”

Lucifer scoffed, incredulous. “If that’s not the biggest load of-”

“Oh, and don’t I know it.” Amenadiel agreed. “But they bought it. Case closed.”

“You’ve  _ got _ to be kidding me.”

“They said, if Michael had done what I’d claimed, they’d be sure to take it up with him if he returned. And in the meantime… problem solved.”

“Well, isn’t that just a bloody win-win for everyone!” He slumped back in his chair, thoroughly incensed.

“And  _ that _ is when I came home, Luci,” Amenadiel concluded.

Lucifer got up to pace again. Another drink at the bar, just to give his hands something to do. If he couldn’t be throttling his twin. Amenadiel’s voice reached him, projecting a wary calm.

“I have to wonder, though… how do we know that Michael  _ is _ up to something?”

Lucifer spun to face him. “Because it’s  _ Michael _ ,” a sneer twisted his expression. “You really think he went down to Hell out of the goodness of his heart? Just to keep an eye on things, I’m sure.”

“But that’s just it, Luci - we don’t know. We only have his word, and I know-” he headed off Lucifer’s pending retort, “-that doesn’t count for much. But I would sleep better at night knowing for certain what he’s up to. Or not.”

“You’ve got a point there.”

Amenadiel stood, decisive. “I should go down there.  _ We _ should go down there. Settle this right now.”

Lucifer held up a hand. “Much as I would love to, brother, you’re forgetting - it’s been weeks, if not months, for him. In the  _ highly  _ likely event he is plotting his next supremely dickish maneuver, that’s more than enough of a head start to make us waltzing on down there the last thing we ever do.”

That stalled Amenadiel’s momentum, and he slowly lowered himself back down to sitting, searching his brother’s gaze for an alternative.

“But we still don’t know what, or if, he’s planning anything at all,” Amenadiel countered. “We need some kind of proof, some-”

“Evidence? Motive? Oh, if you’re looking to build a case against our brother, you’ve come to the right place.” His eyes took on a familiar gleam at this new avenue of approach. “And I know someone who would be more than willing to help, if it means bringing Michael to justice. Though,” he sobered, “I’m guessing she’ll take the news about as well as I did.”

Amenadiel looked like he wanted to make himself scarce for that conversation, starting to rise again. Lucifer noticed, his gaze darkening.

“Oh, no. I am  _ not _ passing this on third-hand, like some… celestial bloody game of telephone.” He jabbed his finger into the arm of his chair. “You’re going to be here, for when the Detective starts in on the million questions that I  _ know _ she’ll have. And deserves an answer for.”

Amenadiel opened his mouth to argue, but quickly conceded the point, settling back with a sober nod. He watched pensively as Lucifer pulled out his phone and put the call through. No sense delaying the inevitable...

“Detective - I’m all right, but…” she must have picked up on his tone, interrupting him for a moment. “Amenadiel’s back. And there’s something we need to tell you.”

\-----

_ Two days (or is that months?) earlier... _

Dromos sprawled inelegantly at one of the many tables scattered throughout the vast chamber, a room the demons generally referred to as The Hall. Though, Hell was so full of various  _ halls _ this wasn’t the most effective naming convention. Fortunately, most demons were unopposed to a little ambiguity; otherwise, how could you excuse picking a fight when your siblings told you to go to the wrong ‘hall’?

This low-grade conflict and chaos colored most of their days. And that’s how they liked it.

But even they, collectively, were starting to feel the unease: a little  _ too _ much uncertainty, in their leaderless state. Broadly complaining about it, repeating the same lines of questioning and getting nowhere, was a regular pastime between stints in the Loops.

“Better no king, that’s what I say.” Nods and murmurs from the motley assembly met Dromos’ well-worn declaration. “Those  _ obnoxious _ angels, acting like they’re better than us?” he spat on the floor in punctuation, the irony lost on nearly everyone. “I say, screw ‘em. We’re doing just fine on our own.”

Petulant cheers sounded from the crowd, stubbornly crouching any raw feelings in anger.

“But... aren’t we  _ supposed _ to have a king?” one asked. “I mean, what happened to that one guy who was here for a while?”

“Who, the bald, grumpy one?”   


“Ha!” another demon chimed in. “Looked so uncomfortable here… watching him squirm was maybe the best part.” His wicked giggle fled away on an echo. 

“Well,  _ I _ heard we aren’t supposed to have a leader anymore,” yet another voice countered, “that there was a… a declaration or something.”

“And you believe that? Idiot,” their neighbor sneered. “Spewing that garbage sounds like a great way to get yourself killed when they DO come back. They’re watching. Keeping track of us. Isn’t that right, Dromos?”

“Eh, what can I say?” He gestured expansively. “It’s been how long? Not a peep from anyone. Helloooo?” he called towards the ceiling, raising chuckles and looks of skepticism in equal measure. “As far as I’m concerned, Hell is ours. And if some holier-than-thou angel comes daintily alighting in  _ our _ kingdom-”

A resounding reverberation shook the Hall, ripples speeding through the very ground beneath them. The crew around Dromos startled, casting about to their companions and those spread elsewhere in the Hall. Outside.

There was a wary rising, a collective movement in the direction of the exit, but any investigation was stalled by the figure who unexpectedly strode in.

He brushed some ash from his arrival off his shoulder, dark gaze taking in the space, entirely unfazed by the gathered crowd.

“Charming place you’ve got here,” his tone cut sharply through the stale air. “I’ll take it.”

\-----

The room stilled, demons stuck in indecision, waiting for some else to make a move. Many looked to Dromos, expectantly. He didn’t disappoint.

“And who are you supposed to be? Some kind of… Lucifer knock-off?” He rose as cautious chuckles bolstered his confidence.

The newcomer absorbed the insult, unflinching. Though Dromos got the impression he’d merely filed it somewhere for later. “No. I’m the Archangel Michael, so… I guess that makes me your new king.”

Dromos strode towards Michael, sizing him up. A loose circle of the braver demons closed in around them, watching, itching for a fight. Dromos met Michael’s eyes.

“Didn’t you get the memo? We don’t need a king anymore.” He gave a throaty chuckle, glancing around at his supporters.

Without a word, Michael helped himself to the first blade at hand and ran Dromos through. Equally unflinching. The crowd gasped before his body even hit the floor, soulless and empty.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Michael’s voice rose to address the room, anger glinting through beneath his courteous tone. “Did I not make myself clear?”

A voice sounded at his shoulder. “Perfectly clear, Lord Michael.” She swept him a bow, hand extended.

He handed back her blade, lips curling at the first utterance of his new title. Oh, he could get used to that. He acknowledged her with a tilt of his head, and she rose as he turned to the gathered crowd.

“Now  _ here _ , my friends, is a demon who knows what’s good for her. Who knows the value that competent leadership can bring.” He saw the first inklings of interest already; this was almost too easy. “No more absentee kings, rushing off to Earth whenever it suits them, forgetting who truly gives them their power. Abandoning their loyal subjects? No!” He heard the murmurs of agreement, some hesitant cheers. “Hell may not  _ need _ a king anymore, if rumors are to be believed. But trust me... with the things we can accomplish together? You’re definitely going to want me around.”

He grinned as the susurrus rose, demons conferring excitedly with their neighbors. Was this guy for real? Was this all some elaborate trick? Michael studied them patiently, savoring the wait, for the first stone to fall...

He heard a sudden movement at his side, looked over to see his previous supporter kneeling before him.

“Let me be the first to offer you my service, my lord.” She pitched her voice to carry through the space.

“And you are…?”

“Elzeveth, my lord.” She relished every sharp consonant as she turned her grin up at him, a sinister bearing of teeth.

“Elzeveth of the Lilim,” he cast his dark gaze down on her, “I gladly accept.” He offered a hand to help her rise, leaning in close to add, “And I get the feeling that you’re going to do well for yourself.”

He looked back to the room. “Well? Do the rest of you know how to follow a good example when you see it?”

Her voice sounded over the milling crowd, providing them with a clear direction. “Hail, Lord Michael!”

The reply was ragged with surprise, but no less enthusiasm. “Hail, Lord Michael!”

“I believe, my lord, that the throne is yours.” He followed her gaze out the narrow window nearby, and up, and up… and...  _ what the…? _

Oh. This was gonna be  _ so _ good.


	2. Straight to Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe gets some bad news, but may have stumbled upon a plan. Michael settles into his new digs.

Michael curled his fingers around the arms of his throne for the first time, taking in the vast, lifeless landscape around him. His kingdom.

His arrival couldn’t have gone better if he’d planned it. Well, he practically did plan it; these demons couldn’t get any more predictable. Any easier to bend to his will. He had the whole lot of them sussed as soon as he walked in. And he was certain word was spreading - the tale of his triumphant ascension - to any who weren’t lucky enough to witness it firsthand.

And talk about a triumph… that demon, what, Elzeveth? She practically handed the throne to him - he supposed he’d have to thank her for that. Entirely altruistic, of course, and likely as trustworthy as the rest of her kind. But useful, nonetheless.

And  _ what _ was the feeling he was getting from this place? At first, he’d chalked it up to the excitement of his arrival, the thrill of things coming together so smoothly but… it was like they were pumping something into the damn  _ air _ . Some low-grade intoxicant, chasing a thread through his veins.

He tried to focus in on it, was just attuning his senses when a flash of movement high above the horizon caught his eye: a surface gleaming enough to briefly catch even Hell’s dismal light, before it shifted and was lost. But only for a moment, before the shape resolved itself, gaining size as it winged its way nearer.

Oh, why was he not surprised.

He unfurled his wings, perfectly camouflaged against the desaturated landscape, and dropped to the dusty ground like a stone. Elzeveth was among the demons lurking nearby, as expected, already rousing herself to come to his side, but he waved her back to the shadows. She noted his cautious demeanor and complied without question, signaling to the others. He was sure she’d be lingering just out of sight.

Michael watched the shape circling overhead, locating him amongst Hell’s crags and cliffs like a hawk to its prey. It dove to land in a rush of air a mere few feet away; he heard a collective gasp from the unseen assembly. Show off.

“Remiel!” He held his arms out in greeting. “What an unexpected surprise!”

She gave him a firm but brief pat on the back in return.

“I could say the same thing, brother. What brings you to this… unpleasant place?” Her face pinched in as she scanned the labyrinthine recesses around them, spear at the ready.

“Oh, so you haven’t heard?” He wasn’t about to offer up anything he didn’t have to.

“What I  _ have _ heard are rumors, brother. Distressing ones. Concerning your recent behavior on Earth and your possible decision to come here. Which I now see is true.”

He cast his eyes down, posture exuding remorse. “What can I say? Mistakes were made, lessons learned.” He sighed, heavy with regret. “But I’ve made my peace with it, and have come here. To do what I can to make amends.”

“So you’re willingly taking up the duties of warden of Hell?” She seemed more surprised than suspicious. Good.

“Well, someone’s got to, am I right? And I thought some time away, you know, to reflect, would do me a world of good. It’s really the least I can do.” He laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, to complement his gentle smile.

She studied him a moment before nodding. “Very well. Your sacrifice has been noted. I’ll return to the Silver City and let our siblings know. Be well, brother.” She clasped her hand atop his before stepping back and launching into the sky, leaving as abruptly as she had come.

He watched as she sped away into the grey vault above, muttering towards her diminishing form. “Warden of Hell... You seem to have missed the part where  _ I’m the king now _ !”

He turned with a satisfied smirk towards the sound of slow applause, fading in as Elzeveth stepped towards him, her sharp features coming back into the light.

“Skillfully done, my lord.” A handful of other demons seemed to materialize from the shadows too, observing from a distance.

“Well,” he preened, “I’d like to claim there was some skill involved, but honestly, I’ve had that whole lot in my pocket for centuries now.” He paused, glancing around him. “So! Now that the Heaven contingent has been dealt with, and I’ve had time to take in the view,” his head tipped towards the towering throne, “what else you got to show me?”

“Oh, plenty, my lord. And it would be my honor.” She made him a small bow. And, dammit if he didn’t really enjoy that.

“Then by all means, after you…”

\-----

Elzeveth guided Michael down one of the rocky corridors, leading to the Loops. A small group of demons had tried to follow, but she’d turned on them with a snarl, blade singing free, and they’d gone about their own business quickly enough.

She watched Michael gazing around as they walked, running a curious hand over the stones in passing.

“My lord, how much do you already know about this realm and what we do here? Have you been here before?”

“Can’t say that I have, but I know the basics: souls, torture, my brother not just sucking it up and enjoying it. And _ now _ I realize he was an even bigger fool than I thought - I mean, what’s not to like? Especially…” he tilted his head in thought as they moved in deeper, the first doors of the Loops just coming into view.

“That, Elzeveth...” he staggered onward, like he was drawn by a distant melody, eyes fixed down the corridor, “what  _ is _ that?” He took a deep breath as he walked, the atmosphere tingling around him. It was the same feeling he’d gotten up on his throne, but more so. Much more.

“We’re approaching the Loops, my lord,” she said curiously. “The doors you see house the damned souls.” Though she had a feeling that wasn’t what he was asking about.

He stopped near the first of them, closed his eyes. He let it wash over him.

Fear.

A glorious symphony of human fear. A cacophony, spiraling out from all around, to form the most delicious, transcendent harmony singing through his veins.

Elzeveth watched the smile slink across his face, watched him open his eyes with a long, satisfied exhale. He turned back to her, awareness returning from somewhere far away.

“You were saying?”

“Right,” she picked up smoothly as they resumed their tour. “The Loops. Each door holds one of our lucky tenants. They choose the venue, and we help provide the entertainment.”

The doors were all unique, Michael observed, some with windows, some with chains… he indicated a fairly nondescript one as they neared it.

“May I?”

“Certainly, my lord.”

They stepped through into an equally nondescript office building, its modern interior startling after the stony grey wastes. A quiet scuffling was coming from a shuttered office, and they arrived in time to see a man fall to the ground, gasping out his last breaths. His short, bespectacled companion watched with quiet satisfaction, glancing up with a start when he noticed he too had an audience.

“Oh, hey Elle.”

“Hi Belios. Just giving  _ Lord Michael _ the official tour.”

“Oh!” He made a few bobbing bows. “My pleasure. I hope everything is up to snuff?” He ignored the man gaping desperately at his feet.

“Lovely. Thanks. Uh, keep up the good work,” Michael added as they turned to make their way out. The door latched behind them, leaving them abruptly in the corridor once more.

“Elle, is it?”

“If you prefer, my lord.”

“I might.” He left it at that as they continued onward, Michael stopping to peep through the occasional window. “So, is it always death?”

“Not always, just a common theme. The Loops reflect the humans’ deepest guilt, for them to relive for all eternity. Turns out many humans who meet an untimely end feel pretty guilty in their final moments.”

“Stands to reason.” Humans and their guilt… anyone pathetic enough to get trapped down here by it deserved what they got, as far as he was concerned. “So then, where do you come in? The demons, that is?”

“We do most of the day-to-day work of running the Loops, making sure everyone is enjoying their stay.” Her grin flashed out. “But you have the power to control them.”

“Wait, what? How?” He pulled her to a stop.

“I’m... not exactly sure, my lord. Lucif- I mean, Lord Lucifer was just able to…” Her words trailed off as Michael wrenched open the nearest door and strode inside. She held her position in the hall, eyes widening at the thunderous crash that sounded from within, reverberating against the door. The muffled cries of shock and alarm, the panicked pleading that followed... crescendoing into screams of terror before degenerating into something almost inhuman…

She quickly stepped aside as Michael shoved himself back through the door, slamming it shut behind him. He leaned heavily against it, a wild light in his eyes as he worked to catch his breath.

He choked out an incredulous laugh, raking a hand through his hair as he straightened. “Why would  _ anyone _ not want to rule this place?!” The manic grin splitting his features suddenly faltered. “And why the  _ hell _ did Dad give it to him and not me?”

Elle studied him a moment, as he endeavored to rein himself back in. “You’re right, my lord,” she ventured. “Lord Lucifer never appreciated this place. Never appreciated  _ us _ , and everything we did for him.”

“Well,” Michael tugged his jacket straight, a residual tingle coursing down in his limbs as they resumed their walk, back towards the Hall, “those days are over; Hell finally has the ruler it deserves. One much better suited to its nature.” His gaze wandered longingly to a passing door, before he snapped it away.

“I’m thrilled to hear it, my lord. I can tell your arrival is going to mean great things for all of us.”

They fell into a reflective silence, Elle grinning with unrestrained pride as she led Michael through the winding passages off the Hall and to his rooms, other demons looking on with whispered speculation as they passed.

The demons all fought and scraped for the best rooms, weapons, supplies, in a constant, self-regulating struggle. She saw Michael noting the general disorder as they walked.

“The system favors the strong,” Elle said, head high.

A few more darkened, cluttered turns found them down a deserted hallway, surprisingly bare, save the dust of ages. Michael turned a questioning gaze to Elle.

“Most demons respect their king,” she explained. “The ones who don’t make up for it with their cowardice. None would dare try to take these rooms for themselves.”

Michael pushed open the wide door; true to Elle’s word, the space was pristine, starkly minimalist, the dark stone surfaces reflecting dully. He caught an unexpected pang of familiarity, and shoved it away. Let Lucifer keep his own  _ royal apartments _ . His self-styled, selfish existence. All of this was  _ his _ now, to make his own. After eons, a place where he could stop fighting or hiding his nature and truly embrace it. The fact that they’d kept this from him only cemented his resentment.

He was pulled from his thoughts by Elle’s quiet cough. “If that’s all, Lord Michael, I’ll leave you to settle in.” She turned with a bow when his voice stopped her.

“Actually… why don’t you come in for a minute. It’ll be nice to talk in private.”

“As you wish, my lord.” Her smile curled minutely as he held the door open for her and she stepped inside.

\-----

“So, let me get this straight…” Chloe was pacing the balcony, having stormed out there to get some air earlier. “Michael never even went back to- to Heaven when he left here, just  _ straight _ to Hell,” as satisfying as that phrase would have sounded under  _ any _ other circumstances. “And he’s had, what, weeks there now? months? to settle in, make some new demon friends…” She leaned hard on the railing, and tried to slow her breathing.

“Detective,” Lucifer reached towards her reflexively, but stifled the urge, “I was as upset as you when I found out. Believe me.” He watched her head bow as she cycled a breath.

“Amenadiel, can you give us a minute?”

He turned to make his way inside, patting a hand on Lucifer’s shoulder as he went.

“Detective…” Lucifer was prepared to offer more explanations, more understanding, when he saw the first tear roll down her cheek, falling lost into the night-light street far below.

Chloe turned to him, raking a hand through her hair. And her words were full of rage - not at him or Amenadiel, or even at Michael, he realized. But at herself.

“I let him  _ go _ , Lucifer. I HAD him, Maze and I  _ had _ him… and I  _ trusted _ him, like an IDIOT, to just go home? That it would actually be enough to know he’d lost, he’d failed…” she didn’t object when Lucifer’s arms came around her, her anger quickly giving way to that same deep exhaustion he’d felt, the disbelief. The emotions shuddered through her as she pressed herself against him.

When she spoke again, he felt her words resonating through his chest, her voice hollow. “This is all my fault. Maybe we should have…  _ I _ should have…”

It laid unspoken in the night air.

_ I should have killed him when I had the chance. _

“Detective, I understand what you’re thinking, believe me. All too well.” His thoughts cast back… the shot echoing through the warehouse, arriving - too late - Joan bleeding out in his arms. And the rage that followed. And the punishment that followed... And what it had nearly cost him. “It was you who helped show me that only darkness lies down that path. That wasn’t me... and it certainly isn’t you, Detective.”

He found her gaze, and was relieved to see a shift there, the torment subsiding.

“Besides,” he went on, “I get the feeling that Michael’s had this move planned out for a while now. It wasn’t some opening you gave him; this has been his fallback all along. I’m sure of it.” 

He felt his own emotions stirring. A power vacuum just waiting to be filled. A whole realm up for the taking, and with no one watching. “If anything,  _ I _ should have seen this coming. Should have done something, anything, to stop it. And now who knows what that vile wretch is planning, how many steps ahead of us he is already.” He grimaced at himself, guilt coiling tightly.

“Hey,” Chloe’s voice brought his gaze to hers, “if I don’t get to blame myself for this, then you don’t either, okay?”

He sighed, squeezing her closer. “You’re right, you’re right. The last thing this investigation needs is either of us off our game.”

Her face quirked up at him. “Investigation? Lucifer, what are you talking about?”

“To figure out what Michael’s up to, of course.” He took her shoulders in both hands, his gaze intense. “Detective, we need to gather evidence, find out what he’s been doing…”

“What, with him  _ in Hell _ ? And how, exactly, are we supposed to do that?” Her eyes flashed with a sudden realization. “If you think you’re going back down there now-”

“Absolutely not, Detective. In fact, I already talked Amenadiel out of it. We’re staying firmly grounded here on Earth… or I am, I suppose…” He tilted his head in thought.

“What? What is it?”

“Detective, you’ve just given me an idea…”


	3. The Real Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just how _do _you spy on someone in Hell? Meanwhile, Michael feels out his new ally.__

“Undercover angels? Really?” Chloe thought it sounded like a bad TV show.

“AnGEL, just the one.” Lucifer raised a knowing eyebrow at Amenadiel, gathered back in the living room together, now that news was broken. “Brother, how would you feel about making the return trip? …And where do you put your odds of convincing Remy to do you another little favor?”

“Wait, who?” Chloe interjected.

“Remiel. Our sister.” Lucifer clarified. “Well, one of them. And the one most likely to help a brother out at the moment, I’m guessing. In addition to being particularly suited to the task.” He glanced back to Amenadiel. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Luci that’s… actually not a terrible idea.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes at him. “Well, of course it’s not! It’s a bloody brilliant idea. So, chop, chop! Off to the Silver City and let our dear sister know that the hunt is on. Stealth, cunning! She’ll be all for it. And!” he added, “I’ll even give her the pick of my arsenal if she comes through. There’s one or two things in there she’d kill to get her hands on: some hand-me-downs of Agrippa’s, that amazing pointy thing I think I got from Guan Yu...” He trailed off, enumerating priceless artifacts on his fingers.

“That’s great, Luci,” Amenadiel drew his focus back, “but what should I tell her? What’s the  _ plan _ ?”

Chloe jumped in. “We need intel. Anything she can find out, at this point.” Her eyes flitted as the gears turned. “What Michael’s doing, who he’s been talking with…”

“I highly doubt he’s going to volunteer anything that’s not a flaming load of horseshit,” Lucifer noted eloquently, “but the demons are notorious gossips; I’m sure she can learn the real story by just keeping her ears open.”

“Right… but at this point, she’s got to make sure  _ not _ to raise any suspicion,” Chloe warned. “If she’s going to be our agent for a while, she can’t blow her cover.” And the thought of a lone angel getting caught out as a spy, while in Hell...

“Not to worry, Detective. Remy’s about as stoic as they come. Remember Amenadiel back in the day?” He tilted his head in his brother’s direction. “She’s possibly even worse. What?” he said, seeing Amenadiel’s expression. “I’m saying that’s a good thing in this case. And you got better.”

“Fine, fine.” Amenadiel conceded. “We’ll send Remy back down to get the lay of the land, see if she can learn anything.”

“While under the guise that she’s just checking up on him again, for Heaven’s sake,” Lucifer added. “Fortunately, this is the one case in which the time difference will work in our favor.”

“Oh!” Chloe picked up on his train of thought. “Right, it’ll be a lot harder to keep track on his end how long it’s been for us; she can go back as often as we need her to, without him getting suspicious. That’s great.” But knowing the vast time jumps for him, what he could get up to between those visits... She shoved that thought away. Focusing on the positive.

Amenadiel nodded; this was all sounding surprisingly reasonable. “ _ If _ she agrees, I’ll have her go down and check on him again, and then report back here to us right away. Sound good?”

“Yes.” Chloe felt equally relieved and nervous, glancing over at Lucifer for confirmation. “That sounds great. Thank you, again.”

They followed him out to the balcony, made their goodbyes, and like that, he was disappearing into the darkening sky.

Chloe studied Lucifer’s face as he watched his brother go. She knew him well enough by now to see the emotions swirling just beneath his reserved expression. The stiffness in his jaw, the furrow between his brows. The eons of history reflected in his gaze.

She let the silence linger, and simply leaned into his shoulder. He startled, briefly, then brought his arm around her with a tight exhale, looking back to the sky once more.

She felt a fraction of the tension leaving him, and her too, she realized, as they stood together. Gravity pulling them closer, drawing from each other’s strength. Lucifer’s arms curled further around her, bringing her into his chest, and she went gladly. Her eyes closed as she breathed in the warmth, the resilience of his embrace, felt the steady thrum of his heart.

They would figure this out. They always did.

Together.

\-----

Elzeveth loitered just inside the door, slightly unsure of what to do with herself, while Michael made a brief exploration of his rooms. As a place outside of earthly constraints, things like food and sleep weren’t strictly necessary, but the privacy this space would afford was welcome. He examined a glass decanter on a counter, containing a dubious looking liquid. He poured two glasses and took a cautionary sip and…  _ dear Dad _ … no wonder Lucifer hated it here.

Still, if the potent burn was to be believed, it would at least get the job done. He brought a glass to Elle, gesturing her towards a seating area. While she took the glass, she hesitated to follow him.

“My lord, are you sure I should…”

“Elle,” he tested the name on for size, “while I like a good yes-man as much as the next king, I also need someone I can actually talk to. So, please. Sit.”

He studied her as she approached and settled down across from him, sipping her drink; it was the first time he’d bothered to get a good look at her and  _ shit _ … she must have been close to his height. And a bruiser to go with it. While her skin was a sickly pale, stretched tight and shining over her bones in the hellish light, nothing else about her read as anything less than lethal. Deadly.

Still, something about her struck him as familiar. She certainly shared Maze’s fashion sense. And her face - he’d heard about Maze’s more  _ demonic side _ , even if he hadn’t seen it personally, that nightmare vision of hollowed flesh and bone. But Elle’s looked more like a lighting strike, scorched up from her left eye. The black lines shone stark against that ghostly skin, singeing up her scalp, and down the length of her neck to spider across her chest. Her thick mane of while-blonde hair was shaved - or scarred? - away on that side, the better to display those marks.

Was it self-inflicted? Or some kind of trial they had to undergo? Or just a more charming feature that demons came into being with, like special, monstrous snowflakes? He’d keep his wings, thanks.

That smile stretched across her face again at his obvious appraisal, showing every tooth in her mouth. He got the feeling it was the last thing many demons had seen. Which reminded him...

“I wanted to thank you for the part you played earlier. Smoothing my arrival, that is. I was expecting maybe more of a fight, but… no contest.” He tipped back more of his drink, only grimacing slightly.

“My lord, there  _ was _ a contest. Or might have been if you hadn’t dealt with Dromos like that.”

“Oh, please… hostile takeover 101. Don’t any of you read?”

“Not many.”

“But you, Elle,” he leaned in closer, “you  _ are _ one of the clever ones, aren’t you? The ‘all hails’ and everything - oh, I don’t doubt it was genuine,” he added as he saw her look of protest, “but I also know a power grab when I see one. And can respect someone who’s not afraid to take a chance when it’s presented to them.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, appreciating his candor. “You’re not like the other kings I’ve met.”

“I should hope not. I value my allies, Elzeveth. And I reward them for their loyalty. I’m guessing that’s a quality you’d appreciate in your king?”

“It is, my lord.”

“So…” He lowered his voice and she found herself inching forward to hear. “If you keep an eye on things for me, help keep the demons in line… I’ll make sure it’s worth your while.”

His gaze locked on hers over his glass, her eyes a stormy blue, even in the low light. 

Familiar...

She saw the shift, an unexpected pain flashing across his features. Panic. Rage. Her own eyes widened in alarm, and she bolted up, sure for a moment it was something she’d done wrong.

“My lord…”

“Out,” he ground out, slowly rising.

She gaped a moment, stuck in her desperation. “But…”

“Get out!”

He turned away, pulse throbbing in his ears. He barely registered the sound of her acquiescence, her retreating footsteps, or the heavy door falling shut behind her.


	4. A Spark Inside the Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memories catch up with Elle...

She refused to run. Refused to show her anger to him in that moment.

She simply held her ground, and lowered her gaze with a bow. Even if he wasn’t looking.

“As you wish, my lord.”

She strode out of his rooms, his command still ringing in her ears, his dismissal, while pulling a tight rein on her emotions. She always had far more emotions than a demon had a right to, didn’t she?  _ Didn’t she? _ She crushed them down until they shone from her eyes like diamonds, daring any to cross her until she was secure in her own room once more.

Those traitorous eyes. She glared at herself in the slick black surface of the stone wall, the closest thing to a mirror around here, outside of the Loops. What had she done, curse Lilith, to deserve these eyes? And these emotions. These  _ ambitions _ . Driving her to hope, to care. To actually want to make this interminable existence into…  _ anything _ more?

Her sister had cared too. Mazikeen. Another dark fire burning against the lifeless ashes. Maze had made her mark, made herself known. And useful. And powerful. Carved herself a path to Lucifer’s side, all those ages ago.

Elle had tried, but no. It was Maze he wanted. And Maze he took when he abandoned them, without a word. Without a king. Nothing but a pack of orphaned, leaderless children, scrabbling amongst the stones, amongst themselves, for what little autonomy they could scrounge. The few that had any idea what that even meant.

She’d lurked back and listened to the rumors swirl: If he was coming back. When. Her pathetic siblings, adrift and powerless. Not a shred of a plan between the lot of them.

Eons passed, circling, stagnant.

And then the message came, a current sparking through the barren halls: He wants us. He wants to come back. We need to go and get him. And Dromos, that fool, leading the charge.

A part of her wanted to believe. But a far bigger part knew better. It couldn’t be true. And she wasn’t about to risk her neck just to find out it was all a lie. Another disappointment.

And she was right. Some of her siblings, never to haunt these halls again. And so many more forced home, unceremoniously rejected, with merely a word from their absentee king.

Again, the rumors spread, like they always did around here. Dromos, bitter but compliant. Spreading the tale of their narrowly-defeated plot, lamenting those lost as if he, or anyone else, cared. Barely time, in their terms, for speculation to fly, for questions to begin forming again, before the unthinkable happened. The incredible.

He returned.

And he returned alone.

And how he’d changed, oh, Elle felt it. Sharp and shattered. The light blazing through the cracks, despite how hard he tried to smother it. He was cold and distant, shuttered, trying to numb himself to something. Almost succeeding.

But she knew him too well. Had watched him too closely.

She knew this was her time.

So she stalked her way closer. Day by day. The others still too full of resentment, or fear, to approach him. 

But he  _ had  _ returned, bereft and keening, and she finally had her chance. To be the one, this time, to offer him her strength, her allegiance, her service. And, in return, to be respected, favored, trusted. Powerful.

She found an excuse, found him alone. Pledged her faith and her blade to him, where her siblings had cowered or turned away.

And he took one look in her eyes. A shock of pain lashed across his features, emotions there she would have never thought the Devil capable of. And, his voice shaking in rage and agony, he ordered her out.

She went. Emotions she would have never thought a demon capable of. Hurt. Confusion. Heartbreak.

For thousands of years after, he kept a painful distance from her. Purposeful. And she watched, and resented, and asked herself  _ why?? _ And never knew, and never stopped asking.

And then one day again, he was gone. Without a word. Without an explanation.

Without an answer.

Just a void.

And again, she found herself alone. And waiting. For any spark inside the darkness.


End file.
